


Blessed with Beauty and Rage

by skullourful



Category: Lost
Genre: 1970s AU, Angst, F/M, Smut, conmama, season 5 but make it ConMama, tw: depression & suicide ideation, tw: self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullourful/pseuds/skullourful
Summary: Claire arrived late to the barracks in 1974, but Sawyer took her under his wing. She isn't the same Claire, losing her son and time-travelling has changed her. She struggles to adjust to life in the Dharma Initiative, haunted by inner-demons.
Relationships: James "Sawyer" Ford/Claire Littleton
Kudos: 1





	Blessed with Beauty and Rage

**Author's Note:**

> MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: this story stars a very depressed Claire and there are graphic mentions of self-harm, if this is something that triggers you, please proceed with caution.

“Have you been doing pottery with Charlie?”

It had started off as a joke, one that Claire would participate in. When she had emerged from the jungle (two weeks late to the joining Dharma party) talking about how she had been led back to the barracks by Charlie’s ghost – it had freaked Sawyer out. He could comprehend time travel, but her communing with some of their dead friends was beyond his grasp. He joked to cover up how uncomfortable it made him.

She had accepted that she didn’t have a way to make him understand. What had happened during those long days of nose bleeds, hiding and crying, was exclusively between her and the island.

After five months, the joke was wearing a little thin and she found herself questioning the intention behind his words. He was probably keeping track of all of her ghost sightings, waiting until it reached a certain number, then he would decide she was irrevocably crazy.

But her solo bike rides weren’t about seeking council with spirits. It was about getting away, putting the village and its inhabitants behind her for a while. Some days she stayed out for hours, night falling without anyone knowing where she was.

It felt necessary to her. She needed to sit amongst the trees and be honest with herself. There were so many lies to maintain in 1974. But when she was alone, she didn’t have to think about the woman everyone thought she was – the Claire Littleton who had been widowed when her husband, Nick, drowned in the shipwreck that had brought them to the island. She cried all of the tears no one else could see.

“No lonely rivers flowing tonight, not even a sigh.” She said, adding to his movie reference.

He didn’t smile in response to this. She should have been expecting for him to be upset, she had stayed out until two in the morning. He clearly hadn’t been asleep, instead waiting for her. She had gone beyond the barrier and could have been attacked by the Others. Being slaughtered by the smoke monster was always a possibility. Or she could have simply run away, done with playing house and doing laundry for the Dharma Initiative.

“That’s not the shirt you were wearing when you left this afternoon.”

She shrugged, not reaching for the buttons of her flannel. “It got chilly after the sun went down.” She was already planning how to hide the tee she had worn when she’d set out.

He was too smart for that, her habits becoming awfully familiar to him during these months they’d spent living together. He probably knew all of her tells off by heart.

He placed his reading glasses and book aside, turning around on the couch so he could face her. “Come here.”

“Can I just go to the loo first?” She keenly rocked forward on her feet.

“Cuh-lair.” His nostrils flared as he found a way to draw her name out to a second syllable.

“Juh-ames.” She mocked.

“It just takes a sec’ to come over here and prove what I’m thinkin’ wrong.”

She clenched her jaw and began on the top button. She cast her eyes down, wondering if the secret was going to be worth this embarrassment. She felt self-conscious, more so than the first time she had undressed in front of him. She felt trapped in her body, in this moment where she was hyper-aware of everything.

She freed her arm, the forearm covered in raised, bright pink lines. She took the long-sleeved shirt off entirely, allowing him to see that the gashes were only in one area.

“Aaron is six months old today.” She said as he approached. “And I just…” She curled her hand into a fist. “I was thinking about all of the milestones I’m missing. Are those moments ever gonna be real for me?”

“I hadn’t realised…”

“He’d be able to sit up without any support. He’ll be able to see further, like almost across a room. He’d be starting to recognise faces and maybe he’d cry when meeting new people because he’d be scared of strangers and he’d…” She trailed off, the emotional fatigue overwhelming her.

She pressed her face into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. She had already wept out all of her tears, soon she would be able to distance herself from this pain.

For now, she shut her eyes, trying to remember how her son smelt.

“This is the most you’ve ever done babydoll.” Sawyer said and she looked up at him as he pushed the hair away from her face.

“I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming.”

“You’ve gotta stop doin’ this.”

“I know, I know, I know.”

“Bed?”

“Yes please, I’m exhausted.”

He didn’t say anything else on the topic, just put an arm around her waist and walked down the hall with her. He watched without commenting as she wrapped a bandage around the tortured area, already trying to prevent prying questions at work tomorrow.

This wasn’t like him. In the whole time that she had known him, he had never been at a loss for words. When he had first discovered her destructive habit, he had ranted for what felt like hours. He would question what she hoped to accomplish through this practice. He would make her promise – she was never to go down the street, she wouldn’t hide any infected wounds from him. He would threaten to send her back ‘home’ on the next submarine (she would be totally alone in that instance; her home didn’t exist yet). He would beg, telling her how much this ruined him, how he couldn’t stand to lose her again.

The worst was when he brought them up: Charlie and Aaron. It was a button Sawyer could press when he wanted a reaction. He would attempt to inspire her into hope, telling her that she had to hold on, had to keep going until she was back with her son. When he wanted to fill her with guilt, he would bring up Charlie. Sawyer’s favourite way to punish her was to ask if this was what Charlie had died for, she’d hit him the first time he’d dared to say that to her.

She had thought that was the worst thing he could say. But him not saying anything hurt her even more. Was it that he didn’t think she would listen, making the whole practice a waste of his time? She wouldn’t blame him for giving up on her, she was always ready to give up.

She laid down and he switched the lights off. He was rolled over to face her, but he didn’t reach for her.

She took it upon herself to close the gap between them, scooting into the middle of the mattress. She put her arm over him and drew herself in closer. She had to prove to him that she wanted to be here.

“I’m sorry.” She said, stewing in her guilt. “I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“Yup, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

She wasn’t sure if he actually believed her. But he kissed her, deep enough for her to truly feel it, it cut through her pain.

Clinging to him she fell asleep, praying she didn’t dream of her stolen son.

* * *

There were times when Claire didn’t feel lost in time. She would observe periods where she was fully conscious of where she was and she could actually enjoy herself, surprised to find she was grateful for what she had.

On those days she wanted to invest in Sawyer and commit to what they had. She could look past all of the peculiarities and just _be_.

It was on those days that she had energy to be an active participant in their relationship, treating him as he deserved. He wasn’t the same man who had greedily hid things from the rest of the camp as a way to exert his power over everyone. He had grown up, leaving behind the petty grudges and mean-spirited nicknames. But he was still shrewd and could easily have her laughing with a sarcastic retort.

It was more than just taking up a new last name. He knew when to lie and when to let her see his heart.

These moments of appreciation occurred sporadically and she would never rely on them to last. She felt awake, even after eight hours of mundane work. Usually she would slink off to bed or have a couple of beers. But she paused, considering the kitchen after half-removing her uniform coveralls.

Upon first looking through the pantry, she wasn’t sure what she could make. Then ideas began to trickle in and she grabbed a couple of boxes out. She took some cans down from the shelf and placed them on the counter. Recipes were coming to her, tastes that she hadn’t experienced in what felt like years.

By the time his workday had wrapped up, she was close to finished making the meal. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, filling a glass with wine when she heard the door open. She looked around, relieved to see he was alone.

A smile was developing on his face as he walked across the floor. “What smells so good?”

“I’m making dinner. I hope you like chicken parmigiana.”

His eyebrows raised but he didn’t comment on it, didn’t bring up that this was the first time she had cooked in the whole time they had lived here. She had bouts of not eating, suffering from a dramatic lack of appetite. When she did feel like eating, she would usually have a bowl of cereal or a piece of fruit. Mostly they would eat leftovers from the communal cafeteria or he would make sandwiches for both of them.

He stood alongside where she was sitting and leant in, pecking her on the lips. “You had a good day, huh?”

She shrugged and handed him her glass. “Meh, it was just a day, not bad is probably the most enthusiastic I can give ya.” She picked up the beige material he had slung over his shoulder, unfolding it to reveal a standard Dharma uniform, the same as what he was wearing. “What’s this? You know you’re supposed to leave your dirty uniforms at the workstations, the janitors pick them up and bring them all to us in the laundry. I can take it with me tomorrow, but…” She paused, needing to take a longer look at the embroidered breast pocket. “Hang on, what’s this?”

He was silent as she looked over the slightly altered version.

“Head of security, did you get a promotion?”

He sipped the wine, trying to appear modest. “It sure looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“That’s amazing.” She said, throwing an arm around his neck so she could bring him in closer. “I’m so proud of you.”

She kissed him, but with more intention than how he had greeted her. She could taste the wine on his lips and she delved deeper, her tongue entering his mouth. He put his hands on her back, bringing her chest flush to his as they found the perfect rhythm.

She never failed to be amazed by how quickly he could render her breathless and weak at the knees. He was the most experienced and uninhibited lover she had ever experienced. The heights of pleasure that he could take her to made her question why they hadn’t started screwing sooner.

They had established early on that it wasn’t anything either of them had considered. Their relationship was entirely influenced by the bizarre circumstances all around them.

She hadn’t been his first choice, which she understood without taking offense.

She never could have anticipated a situation like this. But when everything was going right and their bodies were connecting, she didn’t see any reason to question this as the best choice, the only choice that mattered.

“Y’know, as great as getting a promotion is…” She unfastened the top button of his coveralls. “It’s kinda a shame that you didn’t get a different uniform. Because, and I hate to say it, the beige jumpsuit look is far from your most fashionable moment. It makes you look like a square.”

“A square? What? I thought it sorta made me look like a ghostbuster.”

She pushed the collar away from his neck, kissing the skin there. Only two buttons remained secured. “Ghostbusters hasn’t been invented yet baby.”

“Right, so what are we gonna do about this uniform?” He asked.

She loosened the final button and pushed the thick fabric off of his shoulders. “I think it’d look better on the ground.” She put her hands to the hem of the plain tee underneath.

“What a coincidence.” He said with a smirk. “I was thinkin’ the same thing about this dress.”

She repositioned herself, sitting up on her knees and he made quick work of removing her paisley dress. She threw her arms around him and she felt ready to drown in her desire. They shared greedy kisses, her hands exploring his bare chest.

“Not here.” She said.

“Right, well, ladies choice.”

“Couch.” She said.

There wasn’t any further discussion and he snatched her off of the counter. She giggled as she was spun around. She landed on the sofa without her feet touching the ground.

They had barely picked up where they had left off when the ringing of the oven timer interrupted them.

She huffed. “I guess dinner’s ready. Kinda not feeling very hungry though.”

“Me either. We can always heat it up later.”

“Right. Let me just take it out of the oven so it doesn’t burn.”

She returned to the couch less than five minutes later, climbing on top of him. She found the fever was still as hot as before, his hands diving into her hair.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pushing up into her. He eased her down onto the couch, placing himself on top, which she didn’t have any objections to.

He hooked a finger through her underwear, giving it a playful tug. “You know if I do get a little hungry, maybe I could find something to eat.”

She bit into her bottom lip, trying to brace herself for what was to come. The second his fingers reached between her wet folds she jolted, her breath stopping for one moment of serenity.

He only granted her a couple more kisses on the lips before lowering himself, his tongue fully tasting her excitement. She threw her head back, calling him by the name only she used.

It was sensational, each time more sublime than the last.

She felt entirely awake and alive when it was done, her sweaty body pressed into his. She couldn’t recall why this hadn’t been her first choice.

She wanted to stay like this, wanted to stay happy. She thought she could go on living in this domestic bliss, life in the Dharma Initiative suiting her. She could cook more. She could be his fun Claire – the woman he called sunshine and said she lit up a room.

“I never got a promotion in my life, never had the kind of job that had a ladder to climb.” He said, the room growing darker as she traced patterns on his arm.

“It’s fantastic. All of the other Dharma wives will be so jealous of how successful my man is. Well, they would be, if, y’know, I wasn’t a weeping widow, being taken care of in a purely platonic way.”

He laughed, caressing her cheek. “What can I say? Nick had great taste.”

“May he rest in peace.”

* * *

Claire no longer flinched at the sound of the gunshot, holding steady against the rifle’s kickback. She smiled, satisfied by the sight of the empty can of corn landing on the grass alongside nine other cans.

“Great work.” Juliet said. “That’s the first time you’ve hit every can right in the middle of the Dharma logo. I think we could improve on your speed though.”

Claire had sought the instruction of the reformed-Other a few months ago, seeking her out in secret. Claire had never been interested in learning how to shoot a gun. When living on the beach, she had been intimidated by the constant presence of guns.

A lot of things had changed for her, perspectives needed to be re-evaluated. She had become desensitized.

She had gone to Sawyer first. He had paled, vehemently refusing. It didn’t matter what she said, even when she’d explained it wasn’t to harm herself. He hadn’t accepted that she wanted to pick it up as a hobby, maybe kill an occasional boar.

He hadn’t bought into her attempt to guilt him. She had said it was a form of self-defence that could wind up being essential to her. He had disagreed, telling her he wasn’t going to facilitate her killing someone. According to him, she didn’t deserve something like murder on her conscience for the rest of her life.

Juliet hadn’t been as worried, willing to teach Claire without asking a million questions. Juliet didn’t have an issue with keeping this a secret from Sawyer, she wasn’t interested in disrupting any part of their relationship. The two women shared the cover story of having a book club, just the two of them because they couldn’t fully relax around the other women. Juliet understood deception, never trying to make Claire feel guilt or change her tactics.

They would meet in the jungle, within the boundaries of their territory, but far enough from the houses that the shots wouldn’t attract attention. While the rest of their community was sitting down for dinner, they would find a clearing amongst the trees. Juliet would set up the targets and Claire would take aim, requiring less guidance with each passing tutorial.

Juliet had begun to collect the cans up from the ground, returning them to line up on a fallen log. “Speed and precision don’t always develop simultaneously, but I’m sure you’ll be able to pick it up soon enough.”

“Is there any way we could start on moving targets?”

Juliet turned to Claire, her big eyes seeming to pick up on more than what was physically present. “I’m sure there’s something I could rig up to accomplish that. But that’s a bit of a jump in difficulty. Is there a particular deadline that you’re working toward?”

“I guess you could say that. I wanna know how to properly handle a gun for when they get back.”

“They?” Juliet blinked at Claire, who decided to busy herself, stooping down and fixing the laces of her shoes. “You mean Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sayid and Sun, them?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Why would you need to… Claire, are you planning on shooting Kate?”

Claire met Juliet’s eye as a way to prove her determination, not just to the other woman, but also to herself. “Uh-huh, the day that she took my son from me, she killed a huge part of me. There is a poison inside of me that spreads for every second that I’m without my child, a poison that she put there. So, I’m gonna shoot her so that she can never steal, ever again.”

Juliet appeared uncomfortable with this revelation. “Have you spoken to James about this?”

Claire scoffed. “Yeah, sure, I’m gonna have a cute little pow-wow with James about my murder fantasies.”

“Don’t you think he deserves to know?” Juliet asked. “I know that you two think you’re being very sneaky, but literally everyone knows that you’re an item or however you wanna classify it. A plan like yours, it’s gonna affect him too, you might wanna talk it over with him. Or at the very least, give him some kind of heads up.”

“When you say everyone knows… Do you mean everybody?”

“Every single person.” Juliet said in a casual tone. “It’s the hottest gossip.”

“How do they know?”

Juliet picked up her water bottle. “People kinda suspected it from the start. The fact that neither of you would budge on your living situation, even though it’s a single bedroom house. Don’t worry, they all believe you were married to his best friend who died. They just don’t believe that you have the most appropriate relationship, they can tell that your friendship comes with a lot of benefits.

“They’ve seen hickeys on you, hickeys on him. And you know how we had that really hot night last month? I guess you guys had your windows open and your neighbours did too. And they heard the two of you going at it. Heard it all, pretty perverted of them when you think about it.”

Claire put a hand to her forehead. “Shit, that’s so embarrassing.”

Juliet shrugged a shoulder. “Who cares what they gossip about? They don’t really know about anything that’s going on with us. I just thought you ought to know, after all, it concerns you.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“In that same vein…” Juliet said and Claire sighed, she had thought they had moved on from this. “Don’t you think James should know you’re planning to kill someone? Put that it’s her aside.”

“Sure, that all makes a lot of sense. But I’m not gonna tell him, if I do, he’ll try to stop me. It’s sweet, I should appreciate it, I know. He’s trying to save me from my habits of self-destruction. He doesn’t want that kind of thing weighing on my soul for the rest of my life because he’s that great of a guy.

“But what he doesn’t know and I dunno if I could ever make him understand, is that I need my rage. I need to hate Kate because some days, that burning ball of hatred and revenge is the only thing that keeps me going.” Claire said. “I can’t let him take that away from me and I would appreciate if you can respect my decision and not tell him.”

“Of course, it’s your business.” Juliet said and Claire unwillingly accepted the woman at her word.

“Thank you, so can you help me with moving targets or not?”

Juliet screwed the lid back on her drink bottle and started to share ideas. Claire was relieved that Juliet wasn’t looking at her with pity in her eyes.

Juliet said they could fashion a slingshot for her to launch objects into the air. She did this instead of trying to talk to Claire about her feelings.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you have heard something different, this is your daily reminder that  
> all lives cannot matter until BLACK LIVES MATTER


End file.
